


One of These Days

by writteninblood



Series: Never the Same [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dadwald, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Edward Nygma, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Revenge, Season/Series 04, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninblood/pseuds/writteninblood
Summary: Intelligence fully restored, the first thing Edward does is seek vengeance against Oswald Cobblepot. Except when he arrives at the Iceberg Lounge, he sees something he didn't expect.





	One of These Days

It’s almost too easy for Edward to get into the Iceberg lounge. After a few days of planning, surrounded by detailed improvement maps of the building from when Oswald took over, the actual night itself goes off with only one hitch: Oswald is not in his office. The night is winding down in the club beyond the office door, and Edward had been sure Oswald would be there, as he was every night, to oversee the transfer of profits to his safe. It must be something important if it’s keeping the Penguin away from his money.

Deep in thought, he drags his gloved middle and index fingers across the smooth surface of the desk and he circles round to the enormous throne-like chair. He perches on Oswald’s seat of power, delighting in how angry the Penguin would be if he could see him right now. How angry he _will_ be when he reviews his security footage.

 _There must be some clues as to Oswald’s whereabouts in this room_ , Edward thinks. He’s going to be caught on Oswald’s security cameras now, so this will be the only chance he gets to enact his bloody vengeance. He eyes the small drawers hidden beneath the enormous overhang of the table, and tugs at one of them, surprised to find it unlocked. Inside is just documents, deeds and boring legal information pertaining to the lounge and Oswald’s many contracts with beverage suppliers and the like.

In the corner however, there is a small, scrunched up piece of paper. He flattens it out on the desk, reading:

_but I’m your friend_

Ed narrows his eyes in contemplation. _Fascinating_.

Time for plan B. 

The maps show a staircase that leads directly up to the bedrooms from the office, except the only door he can see is the one that leads into the main room of the club. That leads Edward to conclude that it must be a hidden, secret staircase. He rubs his hands together and mutters ‘goody!’ gleefully to himself. 

He examines the desk for buttons and levers but isn’t surprised to find there’s nothing there. A little _too_ obvious. 

He looks behind paintings and under chairs until his gaze falls on the bookcase. The bookcase would be terribly cliché, but perhaps that’s the beauty of it. People expect more from Oswald, therefore overlook the obvious. He approaches it, thinking it would be in the right location structurally for a staircase. 

Edward analyses the titles on the shelves, mostly classic literature. He wants to get this right first time. What would Oswald choose? He runs a finger over the spines: _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Dracula, War and Peace…_ His finger stops at _Frankenstein_. He _knows_ this is it, it’s just like Oswald; both self-deprecating and self-pitying in the extreme. He takes the book from the shelf and opens it to find a square cut in the pages and a single button. He turns back to the empty room behind him, bowing to an invisible audience, before pressing the button. He pockets the book, in case he needs to use it again to get out, and watches as the bookcase swings open before him. He hurries inside, and not long after, it swings shut behind him. Lights come on automatically and he makes his way up the stairs, willing the stairs not to creak. 

When he reaches the top he peers round the wall and finds a hallway, which he assumes is where the bedrooms are. He feels in the holster hidden by his jacket for his gun, and double checks for the knives up his sleeve. It’s finally time.

He’s about to move out into the hallway when he hears footsteps coming from his left and he hurriedly darts back behind the wall. He hears the person knock on a door, and then he hears _his_ voice.

‘Yes, what is it Mr Penn?’

‘Your presence is needed downstairs Mr Cobblepot, for the transfer.’

‘I’m afraid you will have to proceed without me, I am needed here at present.’

‘You are authorising me to make the transfer without you?’

‘I am. I have complete faith in you Mr Penn. You know more than most what happens to people who let me down.’

There’s a pause in which Edward imagines Mr Penn is gulping.

‘I’ll see that it is done, sir.’

‘Good. I’ll see you tomorrow Mr Penn.’ 

He hears Mr Penn’s footsteps retreat. He leaves it a few minutes before peering round the corner again. Seeing that the coast is clear, he tip-toes along the corridor, until he hears Oswald’s voice again. The door is ajar, and Edward peers in from the dark corridor. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust, but in the dark room, lit only by the reflection of the light pollution on the ever present clouds over the city, Oswald is perched on a bed, his back to Edward. There is a small sobbing figure sitting up in the bed. 

‘I’ve told you, I won’t let anyone get to you here. You are safe, my little co-conspirator. I will protect you.’

Edward’s brows furrow in confusion. Why is Oswald harbouring a child? He _hates_ children. 

The child makes a grab for something on the nightstand. Edward hears some scribbling, and then Oswald says, ‘no, I can’t sleep in here. If someone comes after me in the night, there’s a chance you might get hurt too.’ More scribbling. ‘I know you can defend yourself, but I have more than a few fearsome enemies, one of which I expect to come after me any day now. No, you are safer here in your own room, with only Mr Penn and myself knowing where you are.’

The boy puts down their pen and paper and he hears Oswald sigh. ‘How about I read to you? How’s that for a compromise? That’s something important you need to be able to negotiate if you’re going to be a crime lord one day.’

Even in the dark he can see the child nodding their head very enthusiastically. 

‘All right. Let me go and fetch a book from my room and I’ll be right back.’ 

This is it, this is Edward’s moment. He’ll come out of the bedroom and Edward can slit his throat before he can even scream. 

But instead, he finds himself hurrying back down the corridor and placing himself behind the wall again. Luckily Oswald doesn’t move very fast and he has plenty of time to will his heartbeat to slow down and to take his gun out of the holster. Oswald’s telling limping gait moves slowly down the corridor and stops just close to the stairs. 

He can hear Oswald’s laboured breathing, much louder than his own. And he knows Oswald knows he’s there. He can’t explain how, he just _feels_ it.

Gritting his teeth, he tries to summon the indignant rage that’s been one of the largest motivators in getting his intelligence back. He thinks about the humiliation of being displayed with a gormless expression of fear on his face for five entire months. This is his moment to have his revenge, to rid himself of the man who selfishly took from him without a second thought. He can show Gotham who really is the smartest and most formidable villain in the city. He lowers a knife into his hand.

But all he can see is the small boy sitting hunched in the enormous bed, waiting for Oswald to return with his book. The boy was probably an orphan when Oswald found him, and to lose another guardian would likely cause irreparable damage. He sees himself in that small boy, waiting for his story. Only _his_ parents never came. 

Whatever his feelings towards Oswald, the boy doesn’t deserve to lose probably the only father figure he’ll ever have. For some reason the child seems to be bringing out a side of Oswald that everyone in Gotham seems to think he’s lost; his reputation has become particularly callous of late. Edward didn’t think Oswald had it in him to care for someone so selflessly. And just like that he’s unwittingly bombarded with images from their time as mayor and chief of staff. The moment Oswald made him his second in command, that time Oswald saved him from Butch, and all the other countless moments they shared: meals, events, parties, quiet evenings by the fire. The one time in Edward’s life that he’d felt safe and loved. All gone. It can never be like that again. He will never _feel_ like that again. 

He _hates_ Penguin. He _does_. He runs his thumb over the handle of the knife, his whole body coiled ready to spring out of his hiding place and attack him. 

But he hears Oswald sigh and start limping again, returning shortly, presumably with his book. He doesn’t stop this time, he goes straight to the small boy’s room. He hears Oswald’s voice as he begins to read animatedly, and he closes his eyes. 

He retracts the knife and puts the gun back in the holster. He’s not going to kill Oswald Cobblepot. Not today.

*

In the late morning, Oswald is awoken by Mr Penn knocking on his door.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you Mr Cobblepot, but there is something downstairs that requires your immediate attention.’

‘Is Martin all right?’ is Oswald’s instant panicked response as he gets up and starts to dress. 

‘Yes sir, I just checked on him. He’s still sleeping.’

Oswald closes his eyes, relieved. Once he’s fully attired in his daily battle dress, he steps out and follows Mr Penn downstairs. 

The first thing he notices is that the door to the safe is ajar and there’s a bright green glaring question mark on it. Pursing his lips he directs his attention to the television that’s been brought in so he can watch the security footage. 

‘You can leave, Mr Penn. I’ll call for you if I need you.’

Mr Penn nods his head and hastily exits the office. 

Oswald sits down behind his desk, shakily pours himself a whiskey and presses play on the video tape. 

To begin with he watches Edward break in, visibly deflated when Oswald isn’t there. When Edward discovers the note Martin wrote, he pours himself another whiskey. _If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a sentimentalist._

He’s intrigued as Edward starts hunting for something, realising quite quickly it’s the secret staircase. He’s impressed, but not surprised, when he finds the correct book straight away and disappears from the office.

He fast forwards the tape until Edward re-emerges from the secret staircase, a small smile on his face. Edward goes straight for the safe and fiddles with the combination, having no problem opening it. Oswald needs to stop being so sentimental and putting so much of himself into his secrets, especially now Edward seems to be back on form.

Edward extracts a small sack from inside his jacket and starts filling it with the stacks of cash from the safe. This done, he wanders back over to the desk. He drops the sack down upon it, and sits sideways on the chair, his never ending legs over the arm, posed ridiculously in the air. He reaches into the sack and starts fanning himself with the money, a satisfied grin on his face. 

He sits there like that for a while, swinging his legs like a child. He then suddenly gets up and takes a small can out of his pocket, and sprays the question mark on the safe door. He steps back for a moment, admiring his work, before pivoting theatrically, retrieving the sack and making for the exit. He’s about to go out the door, when he pauses. He looks directly up at the camera, and Oswald suppresses a shiver. Edward lifts his hat in salute and blows a very exaggerated kiss before flouncing out of the room, sack slung over his shoulder, looking for all the world like a deranged sparkly green Santa Claus.

Oswald is caught off guard by the laughter that escapes him. He rewinds the tape and hits pause on the image of Edward blowing him a kiss. He starts laughing again and finds he can’t stop. All his fear of Edward coming to kill him seeps out of him, his entire being feeling lighter. It had been exhausting constantly looking over his shoulder once he got word of his restored intelligence. The weight of the events of the last couple of years lessens somewhat, but he’s not naïve enough anymore to think that the hurt they caused each other will ever fully go away.

He knows Edward likely didn’t kill him only because of Martin. But that speaks volumes to Oswald. _The Riddler_ , the one who’d tried to kill him twice, wouldn’t have hesitated. The man he is now has more compassion and it sits more comfortably with his alter-ego. Edward seems to finally be secure in his identity. 

He still has regrets, and a deep sense of loss for everything they once had, but somehow, this feels like moving forward and the start of a new chapter for them. He has hope for the first time in a very long while, that they may one day be able to trade words without it being a competition to see who can hurt or ridicule the other most. 

It’s a new beginning.

Downing a third glass of whiskey, Oswald wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes and shouts ‘MR PENN!’ as he prepares to scream himself hoarse and scare the poor man out of his wits.


End file.
